


chicks dig a man with hypospray

by zombeesknees



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 13:47:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17101748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombeesknees/pseuds/zombeesknees
Summary: Captain Kirk is bored; but when he takes a small party to the planet of Omega Centuri Twelve in search of some entertainment, he encounters something baffling. Could there really be a world where the native women are more attracted toDr. McCoythan Captain Kirk? | Written many moons ago on LJ.





	chicks dig a man with hypospray

“Spock, what’s the closest planet?”

The First Officer turned in his seat. Kirk was sprawled across the captain’s chair in an incredibly indecent, undignified way, legs akimbo and arm draped across the headrest. 

“Omega Centuri Twelve, sir. May I inquire as to your interest in the planet?”

“I’m boooooored, Spock,” Kirk groaned. “We’ve been traveling aimlessly for three weeks now, and I could go for a little excitement. What’s this Omega Centuri Twelve like? Sunny? Golden, sandy beaches? Plenty of cabanas where you can get a mean Mai Tai with a tiny umbrella in it?”

“Not exactly, sir,” Spock said dryly. “The planet is almost entirely covered in dense vegetation, not unlike the ancient forests of Earth. Sandy beaches are scarce. And I do not think the native plants would make a suitable Mai Tai.”

“Well, are the locals friendly?” Kirk persisted.

“They are on good terms with the Federation, yes,” Spock affirmed. 

“Excellent. That’s all I need to hear. Sulu. Chekov. Plot a course for Omega Centuri Twelve.”

“Aye aye, Captain,” said Sulu.

“Attention all crew, this is the Captain speaking,” Kirk announced. “We’ll be making a brief stop at Omega Centuri Twelve—any who wish to be a part of the landing party, notify me immediately. That’ll be all.”

\---

Dr. Leonard McCoy sipped his glass of bourbon, turning the page of his book. It had been a relaxing three weeks, with little more than a few headaches from Communications and the usual muscle complaints in Engineering to address. He knew the unexpected vacation wouldn’t last long—not with Jim Kirk’s ability to gallivant into trouble the moment anyone took their eyes off him—

His communicator abruptly buzzed into life. “Bones, you busy?”

He didn’t hide the sigh. “If I said I was, would that make a lick of difference?”

“Nope. Getting together a landing party. You should come with.”

“I’d really rather not.”

“Okay, if you insist,” Kirk said with an audible degree of regret. “But it would be a real shame if there was to be an accident—Chekov could shoot himself in the foot, a venomous bug could fly straight into Spock’s ear—and if you weren’t there for on-the-spot medical care…”

“Damn it, Jim, I hate you.”

“You love me. See you at the transporter room in five.”

\---

“Lt. Uhura sent a greeting to the nearest village, Captain,” Spock said as they set out through the ferny forest. “They should be expecting us.”

“You _are_ dating the woman, Spock,” Kirk pointed out. “You could call her Nyota.”

“Could and will are two different matters entirely,” the Vulcan replied coolly. 

“And you’re sure these people are peaceful?” McCoy demanded, one hand at his phaser and the other at the strap of his med kit. 

“Yes, Dr. McCoy. There are several Omega Centurions at Starfleet, in fact.”

“Wait, are they sort of bluish? Gold eyes?” Kirk asked.

“Yes.”

“Is Zarelda Zinn from here?” Kirk stopped short, eyes widening.

“You mean ze actress, Keptin?” piped up Chekov.

“Actress slash lingerie model,” Kirk clarified.

“Yes, sir, she’s an Omega Centurion,” Spock said emotionlessly. McCoy rolled his eyes, if only because he knew the science officer never would. 

“How much longer till we reach the village?”

“Scanners indicate it is less zan a half mile in zat direction,” Chekov said, pointing.

“How about a healthy race?” Kirk suggested animatedly. “Good for the lungs, right, Bones?”

“Yeah, sure—”

“Last one to the village is on laundry detail next week,” Kirk cried as he took off through the vegetation.

“Is it bad that I want him to run into a tree?” McCoy grumbled as the other three followed at a more sedate pace.

\---

Uhura’s message had obviously been well received: a large group had gathered at the edge of the quaint village, though perhaps _party_ would have been a more apt description. Long trestle tables had been pulled out onto the communal green, and buxom women with large hips were laying out large platters and bowls full of food. There was a general air of festivity, and the locals were wearing their best.

“Welcome to Trydon,” a broad-shouldered man wearing an impressive necklace announced, grinning as he waved them closer. “No doubt my land’s hospitality precedes us, and we wish to live up to such expectations. Shall we expect more of your crew, Captain? We have plenty of food, and several able musicians—we were hoping to entertain you with some of our songs and dances this evening.”

“Thank you _very_ much, sir,” Kirk responded with an easy smile. “I take it you’re the man of the town?”

“Grunhald is my name, Captain, and I am the Patriarch of Trydon. Ah, there you are, Salisa. This is my daughter, Salisa,” he said proudly. 

“A pleasure, Miss Salisa,” Kirk said, leaning in to shake the proffered, long-fingered hand. “Captain James T. Kirk, Starship Enterprise.”

“Nice to meet you, Captain,” the woman replied in a friendly — though not encouraging — tone. “Will you introduce the rest of your party?”

“Certainly. My First Officer, Mr. Spock. Our navigator, Pavel Chekov. And chief medical officer, Dr. Leonard McCoy.”

The curvaceous Salisa nodded politely to each in turn, but when she turned to McCoy there was a slight shift in her expression — and the good doctor suddenly found himself struggling to swallow. Her dark eyebrow had arched and her golden eyes glittered in a way that was both predatory and inviting.

“Please do come and sit down,” she said encouragingly, stepping forward and deftly slipping her arm through McCoy’s. “My friends will be so excited to meet you all...”

\---

“I can’t help but feel something is wrong here,” Kirk said to Spock, sipping at his mulled drink and watching the dancers weaving around the bonfire.

“What do you mean, Captain?” Spock asked calmly. “The people of Trydon have been nothing but friendly and attentive hosts. We have had no signs of hostility or duplicity. There has been food, drink, and impressive displays of musicality and skilled dancing. What do you feel is wrong?”

“Something, Spock,” Kirk said irritably, tapping his knee. “Not sure what. Can’t quite put my finger on it. But there’s something… Strange going on here.”

“Keptin, Keptin,” Chekov exclaimed breathlessly, stumbling before coming to a complete stop. An empty glass was in one hand; a wreath of luminescent purple flowers sat crookedly on his head, slipping down over one ear. “I am zinking we should extend our stay. We could report back to ze ship, have Mr. Scott and Sulu join us. It is a shame, for zem to miss out on such fun!”

A giggling teenaged Omega Centurion girl rushed up, grabbing Chekov’s empty hand. “Come _on_ , Pavelly,” she giggled. “Come and dance!”

“I can do zat!” he laughed with a hiccup, bounding off. 

There was a pause of reflective silence as Kirk and Spock stared after the now skipping navigator. “...Something just ain’t right, Spock,” Kirk insisted finally.

“Well, I haven’t seen Mr. Chekov in such high spirits since he discovered the last digit of pi,” Spock said thoughtfully. “…Or maybe it has something to do with Dr. McCoy’s behavior?”

As if on cue, the group of dancers finished the last song and began to disperse to the refreshment tables and benches. Well, mostly dispersed—a large group of giggling women came towards them and at the center — as if the nucleus that held everything together — walked McCoy.

“…And I said to him, I said, ‘Senator, you never should have laid a bet on a five-legged horse!’”

The entire group burst into peals of musical laughter. “Oh, doctor, you have such a wit!” Salisa cried, hand on his arm. 

“Tell us another story about Earth,” begged a particularly striking young woman wearing an emerald sarong. She brushed her dark hair back from her bare shoulders with a flirtatious sweep of her hand, flashing a winning smile. 

“Don’t forget you promised me the next dance, doctor,” another woman with an elaborate facial tattoo said petulantly, full lips pouted. 

“No, he promised me, Fulcia!” insisted another loudly.

“Now, ladies,” McCoy said in chivalric fashion. “There’s plenty of time for dancing—there’s no need to argue over who’s first. You’ll all get your turns.”

“We had better, because we’re not letting you go until you do,” Salisa promised with a wolfish smile. “I hope you plan on staying the night with us, Dr. McCoy. We have plenty of room for your party, and there’s no reason for you to leave before you have a hearty meal in the morning.”

“Yes, my sister and I make the best morning meals,” said another woman excitedly. “Ask anyone. We would love to make some reloshi for you, doctor.”

“I don’t know, ladies—you’ll have to ask the Captain about all of that,” McCoy said slowly. “I’m not in charge; if he says we need to return tonight, that’s what’ll have to happen.”

“Oh no, you wouldn’t dare spoil our fun, would you, Captain?” Salisa demanded, turning sharply to Kirk.

“Well, we usually don’t stay planetside overnight unless there’s a pressing problem,” Kirk said slowly. 

“You try to steal our doctor from us, Captain,” promised an especially well-endowed young woman. “And we’d be more than happy to _make_ some pressing problems.”

“Yes!” chorused the others, eyes narrowing threateningly.

The suddenly tense moment was abruptly shattered by the musicians, who had picked up their instruments again and struck up a lively reel. With a squeal of excitement, the woman with the tattoos grabbed hold of McCoy’s hand and yanked him back to the dance square. Several of the group sighed heavily in disappointment, shoulders slumping.

“I’d be more than happy to dance,” Kirk suggested with his best, smoothest, smirk. But he could have been talking to a wall for all it mattered, as the women dispersed to sit dejectedly on benches or drink strong punch with an air of despondence. 

“I believe I see what you mean, Jim,” Spock said. If Kirk didn’t know any better, he would have sworn there was a degree of smug satisfaction to the Vulcan’s words. “There certainly is something unusual happening here.”

“Exactly! Thank you, Spock,” Kirk said, throwing his arms into the air with a huff. “This place is _weird_...”


End file.
